


I Bet She Likes Him

by Skellyagogo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellyagogo/pseuds/Skellyagogo





	I Bet She Likes Him

Getting out of the solitude of my bedroom, relishing in the sunlight streaming through the expansive windows of the lounge. A living room in the Compound hardly used unless we had a party. A book in my hands, curled up on the couch trying to engross myself in my newest novel. Spread across the couch with my legs hanging over the armrest. Eyes flickering from word to word. Turning page after page lost to time and space within the pages of my book.

I hardly heard their voices entering the room. I was hidden from view to those that couldn't pay attention, like Clint. Too into my book to see his figure next to me on the couch. It wasn't until he sat on my stomach that I tore my eyes away from my book.

"What the fuck Clint?!" Groaning in pain at his body weight.

Swiftly standing up, eyes wide staring down at me. A small smile curled at the edges of his mouth. Coughing trying to catch my breath at nearly having the wind pushed out of me I sat up on the couch glaring daggers at the archer.

The rest of the boys, Steve, Sam and Bucky quickly changed from laughing at Clint's near crushing the life out of me incident and back to rattling off baseball stats. My beautiful silence had turned to obnoxious noises and disgruntled arguments over the ballgame. Sam had already turned on the television as they sat on the adjoining couch.

Clint settled onto the same couch as me and kept glancing my way. Smirking, trying not to laugh watching as I attempted to get comfortable again. Propping my feet up on the coffee table. My book resting on my stomach as my eyes scanned the words.

"Sorry Y/n, didn't see you there." He bit his lip to keep from laughing at the side glare I gave him.

"You know, I thought being deaf was supposed to heighten your other senses. Why can't you see?" I grumbled.

"In my defense," he chuckled. "Had I noticed something as beautiful as you laying there instead of arguing stats, perhaps I would have just settled your head on my lap instead of sitting on you, but you know... your clothes kinda blend into the couch. Who can't see now?" He raised an eye as if that would end the discussion. Always passing the blame.

Rolling my eyes ignoring him, I tried my damnedest to get back into my book, but that smell. That stupid cologne, or aftershave or soap, I didn't know what, but whatever it was wafting off Clint was distracting. My mind wanders to the question, who gave him the right to look like an Adonis and smell so damned divine at the same time? It wasn't fair, Mother Nature wasn't playing fair when she created Clint Barton.

"Good book?" The cocky tone in his voice that meant he was smiling when he finally spoke again during a commercial break.

"Mhm," bringing my finger to my mouth and telling him to "shh."

"Whatcha reading sweetheart?" His newest question had me sighing, marking my page with my index finger and closing the book hoping to quiet him.

"It's a delightful tale of a woman who was minding her own business enjoying some peace and quiet until she was pushed over the edge by stupid questions that in turn sent her on a killing spree. Now, house rules, I was here first, so all of you shut up and be quiet. Go to the media room if you wanna watch the game and cluck like chickens."

"Can't," Sam retorted tossing popcorn at me. "Wanda and Nat are having a double date with Viz and Bruce in there."

"Fine," I huffed, opening my book trying to drown them out.

The announcer's voice kept bleeding into my story. My mind adding the scores and the names of players into the story causing me to reread paragraphs over again. Clint was fidgeting next to me. It was getting hard to ignore him. Crossing his ankle over his knee, bouncing his foot. The muscles in his calf kept flexing. Even through his cargo pants, I could the muscle definition. Side eyeing him, noticing how tight those pants were around his thighs.

His dark grey t-shirt a little snug. It was like he borrowed a shirt from Steve. The sleeves were smaller than he normally wore showing off his biceps. It's like he knew I was staring as his bicep flexed. Years of pulling back a bowstring that none of the others could. Years of working those arms in one fight after another. Hearing him softly laugh, feeling the cushions move as he did so. Snapping my eyes back to the pages of my book, but I found myself drifting again.

His hands holding onto a beer bottle. The veins protruding from beneath his skin. Hardened calloused fingers, palms rough from years of hard work. Nimble long fingers, skilled in everything right down to his favorite activity, annoying me by how well he twirled drumsticks in them.

Faint silvery lines, scars from battles past dotted over his body. Dark red lines of scars that never wanted to fade along his forearms. Bruises from our last mission just barely beginning to fade. Bruises he'd never had gotten if he hadn't turned himself into a human shield to keep me from getting hit with rumble. Mother Nature definitely wasn't playing fair, not even a little bit.

She let the images seep into my dreams at night. Making it seem as if I wasn't the only one who felt something. A nightly replay of things that had happened and things my brain wished could happen. Dreams of our dances at Tony's parties, late-night sessions of stargazing in silence on the roof when insomnia hit us both hard.

The wishes to know what his lips felt like against mine. What it would be like to wake up next to him. To see his hair ruffled and sticking up all over the place. To feel that scruffy stubble scratching my skin as roughly kissed me good morning. No, Mother Nature wasn't a nice woman having created that man.

Clint kept letting out little sighs like he was bored. The announcer rattling off more numbers, more stats I didn't understand. Baseball was never my thing, too boring and way too much math. Staring at the same word on the page I'd been stuck on for over twenty minutes now, I could feel his gaze on me. Risking a glance his way, he flashes his patented smirk and turned his head back to the game.

His arms raised above his head, stretching. The popping and crackling noise from his aged joints almost made me laugh. Biting my lip to keep from amusing him, I stared at my book trying to start the paragraph yet again. A gentle thump of his arm landing on the back of the couch behind me. Internally I was screaming, but I could feel the heat of the blush on my chest. The moment the next commercial break started he spoke again.

"How's your fever?"

I heard the words as he spoke them but it was like my mind was on hiatus. My brain not wanting to comprehend the meaning of each letter that formed the words. Turning towards him confused, the furrow of my brows as it finally hit.

"What... I don't have a fever." I scoffed. Was he... was he using a line on me? Fighting to keep the blush beneath the collar of my shirt. Screaming at it in my mind not to give me away.

"Oh," he nodded his head making the telltale 'oh' face, but the glint in his eyes gave him away. He was trying to stay expressionless, trying to be smooth. "You just look hot naturally then."

Sam and Bucky were snickering, smacking each other while watching the exchange. Whispering between themselves. Glancing back and forth between Clint and I. Steve only sat that there watching in silence with a tiny grin.

Flustered, my mind an utter blank unable to think of anything to snap back with. I felt the blush break free above the neck of my t-shirt. Clint's grin widened catching a peek at the reddish hue. Rolling my eyes, trying to pass off my embarrassment as an annoyance. I tried my damnedest to concentrate on that book. Tried to read the words, but I stared at the same word. That stupid line and the way he smiled got to me and he knew it too. He got me good.

The game popped back on the television, the announcer speed talking over what was missed during the commercial break. Sam, Bucky, and Steve began arguing over the stupidity of commercials and how they should have just gone to the game and dealt with the crowds. Clint, well he smiled away like he'd won some prize. Letting out a not so subtle cough as he inched himself closer.

That stupid blush crept it's way up my neck and fanned itself over my cheeks and ears. Gods he smelled fantastic. Why? Why in the hell did you do that Mother Nature? What gave you the right to make that man so damned attractive? Do you get some sick pleasure out of my misery being this close to him?

Another twenty minutes went by and I still hadn't moved on from that single word. My eyes just didn't want to move, my brain didn't want to cooperate. Twenty minutes of staring at the same spot on the whithered yellowed page. Twenty minutes of feeling Clint's leg brush against mine. Twenty minutes of torture inhaling that scent of him, feeling the heat of his warmth radiating off his body.

"10 bucks says she kicks his ass," Sam whispered toward Bucky. Suddenly Clint and I had become more interesting than the game.

"30 says he pulls it off," Buck answered back. I was trying to act like I hadn't just heard them, turning the page just for the sake of turning the damned page finally.

"Hey Y/n," Clint coughed nervously, uncharacteristically of him. Shifting on his cushion, pushing his leg into mine. He didn't even wait for a commercial break, talking over the announcer and his calls of the current inning.

"Yeah Clint," not wanting to look his way. Afraid of what I'd do. My body was already betraying me being this close.

"Do you know what's on a menu?" A hint of nervous energy made his voice crack as he spoke.

I know I'd heard that line before. Scrunching my face, closing my eyes hoping to hide the elation in them. He was really trying to win me over with cheesy lines. I knew the answer, it was corny. The type of line some guy invented to elicit a laugh from the girl he was using it on.

"No, what?" I finally looked at him trying to keep a straight face. It only made him smile. An eye crinkling, dimple popping sort of smile.

"Me - N - U."

Groans erupted from the boys on the opposite couch. Sam's eyes-rolling, shaking his head thinking Clint blew it. Steve and Bucky exchanging whispers shaking their heads. Steve went as far as letting out a grumbled sigh.

"How is someone so formidable in the field, a giant cheeseball at home?" I gave up, there was no reason to hide the smile anymore.

He shrugged his shoulders, a small tilt in his head while he smirked. It was boyishly charming. A sweetness that offset his usually stoic features. Watching his lashes flutter as he blinked. I could see he had more to say but again we were interrupted by the game. Offering up a wink, his attention drifted back toward the game. A glassy, glazed over look washed over his eyes. He was watching but not paying attention to it at all.

All of it had me laughing. Marking my real spot in the book, I leaned over setting it on the coffee table. I wasn't going to finish it now no matter what I did. Curling my legs underneath me, conveniently causing me to lean into Clint. My shoulder nestled under his arm, head nearly leaning on his chest. I'd give him a taste of his own medicine.

The game was now forgotten by the others, a new entertainment carrying on in front of them. Catching a side glance of their entranced expressions. The whispers and sly grins. Bucky motioning Sam to pay up. Clint's arm slid from the back of the couch, resting directly around my shoulders. Trying my best to follow the game and not explode over his latest move.

"If nothing lasts forever," he whispered my way. "Would you be my nothing?"

Leaning back into the couch laughing. Partially sitting up, his hand dropped precariously close to my breast. He was taking in the sight of my laughter with a giddy grin. Eyes darting around like he was studying a painting. Mapping out his favorite parts.

"What is with all the pick-up lines? They sound like shit Scott would say."

Like him, I found myself taking in the close of view of his features. The tiny freckles that dotted his cheeks and nose. The creases around his mouth from bouts of laughter and smiles over the years. Little sprouts of facial hair pushing their way up around his face and neck. Like a dark blonde mossy forest floor.

Piercing blue eyes that much like a Siren made it impossible to look away. Stare too long and it was being caught in a net. You couldn't possibly look away. Delving deeper inside them, the ocean turned into galaxies. Haunting and mesmerizing. Wrinkles around his eyes from age and laughter. Somehow distinguished and yet playful. Yes, Mother Nature definitely had it out for me when she created this specimen of a man.

A light chuckle, another in a long line of distractions created by him. A toothy crooked grin that spoke more than his cheesy lines. Clint was enamored and in love. It was the kind of smile I knew I had each time he told a stupid joke. The same smile both of us wore each time he dragged me out on the dance floor at one of Tony's parties. Clint was having the same aggravating time with Mother Nature as I.

Turning the tables yet again knowing he'd gotten my full attention. I watched almost to the point of crossing my eyes as his index finger landed on my lips. Smirking, shaking his head toward the big-screen television.

"The games on. Damn Y/n, why you gotta be so noisy?" Making my heart skip a beat as he flashed another wink.

Several innings went by spent curled into his side, head leaning on his shoulder without another word. A rush of endorphins coursing through me. Feeling the hammering beat thumping in his chest. Catching his eyes drifting my way, each time met with a soft smile. His fingertips swirling circles and shapes over my arm.

"Pay up," Buck whisper yelled at Sam smacking him hard in the arm.

"That doesn't mean anything!" Sam hissed back.

Finally thinking I'd gotten a grasp on the game, understanding the mechanics of it. Engrossed in the excitement seeing the player up to bat hitting a home run. Clint took his shot.

"Y/n can you hold this?" His voice unusually quieted.

"Mhm," holding out my hand, not looking away from the tv.

Clint slipped his hand into mine. Fingers lacings through mine. His palm slightly damp but nerves, but feeling the warmth. The feel of his grip tightening as he watched my head dip staring at our clasped hands. Feeling his thumb drifted over the pulse point on my wrist. I lifted my head to meet his eyes. A childish smirk eeking over his lips watching the blush blossom across my cheeks.

Leaning in, brushing my nose to his. Lips colliding in a gentle kiss. Clint tensed, his body rigid with shock. Widened eyes unbelieving what was happening, but he recovered quickly. Lips melding together in a dance. Crawling into his lap, letting go of his hand, running my fingers through his hair. The kiss deepening only interrupted but Steve's uncomfortable coughing.

Pulling apart, grinning, blushing. Making myself comfortable in his lap. Leaning my temple to his, feeling his arms snake around me. Slinging an arm around his neck, letting the other rest on his chest.

"Dinner tonight?" Clint asked leaving a kiss on my cheek.

"How could I say no to that?" Smirking back at him.

"Pay up bitch!" Bucky slugged Sam in the arm grinning. "Told you she liked him."


End file.
